Of Blood and Dragons
by MegSkoomaPirate
Summary: Berin only traveled to Skyrim for a change of scenery to try to lessen his sorrow. He got a bit more than he bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

***Welcome to MegSkoomaPirate's first attempt at writing anything! A few notes for the story, I guess. One: I. HATE. THE. STORMCLOAKS! I despise them completely, so I also made my character hate them, though I suppose he has more of a reason. Two: Because of my hatred of the Stormcloaks, I may have changed a few things in the dialogue to make them a bit more obnoxious. Sorry. Three, and perhaps the most important: ... I do not own Skyrim or anything Bethesda related at all. How sad is that? So, there's my disclaimer. Have fun!* **

***EDIT: Fixed some typos. Added some stuff. Currently working on chapter two, sorry for laziness!***

* * *

The first thing that Berin noticed upon regaining consciousness was that he was moving. The creaking of wood and the sound of horses said that he was in a wagon.

The second thing he noticed was that he had a headache the size of a mammoth, which wasn't helped when the wagon hit a hole and caused his head to slam against the wooden seat he was laying on.

When he tried to open his eyes he was forced to close them tightly again to block out the bright light of the sun.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake." A male voice said.

_Am I? _Berin thought, grimacing. _That would explain how much pain I'm in._

Opening his eyes again he was at least successful in keeping them open, though he was so dizzy and light-headed that his sight remained unfocused.

Blinking quickly to dispel the fog in his eyes, he could finally see where he was. He was in the back of a cart with three men, Nords by the look of them, whose hands were bound. Berin quickly glanced down at his own hands to find them equally bound.

He could see at least one other wagon as well as several men on horseback, all of them soldiers in Imperial Legion armor.

_What in Oblivion?! _He wondered, eyes widening in surprise and alarm. _What in the name of the Divines is going on?!_

"Ugh," He finally groaned. "What happened to me?"

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" The man sitting across from him, who was apparently the man who had spoken earlier, asked. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

_Thief? _He thought, glancing around.

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!"

_Stormcloaks huh? Ugh. That explains __how_ _I'm here, not __why__ though. I'm not a Stormcloak._

"You there." Berin looked up at the horse thief. "You and me- we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The man threw in, seeming to spit the word **thief.**

"Shut up back there!" Called the soldier driving the cart.

In the short silence that followed Berin took the time to look at the other men in the cart.

The man sitting across from him look to be in his late twenties or early thirties, with shoulder-length blonde hair that had a loose braid along the left side of his face. With his trimmed beard, humorous blue eyes, and muscular build he looked every inch the typical Nord male. He was wearing what appeared to be chainmail and leather armor with a blue cloth covering his shoulders, which Berin assumed to be the Stormcloak uniform.

The horse thief sat to the Stormcloak's right. He was almost the complete opposite of the Stormcloak, looking a few years younger with dark, reddish brown hair that he had combed away from his face with his hands. His face was clean shaven but covered in dirt that made his brown eyes seem darker than they actually were. He was wearing a shirt that looked as if it would be put to better use as a rag and Berin figured that the soldiers had given it to him when they captured him, as a quick glance at his own body showed that he had been similarly apparelled.

The man sitting next to Berin had been silent up to this point, probably because he had a gag in his mouth, though Berin couldn't think of a reason why. He looked to be the oldest in the small group, around forty years old, with dark blonde hair past his shoulders with a small, tight braid down the left side of his head. The gag covered most of the lower half of his face, but Berin could see the intense green eyes above the gag and the hint of a beard below. Wearing a combination of chainmail with two steel shoulder plates and a fur cloak he was dressed finer than anyone else in the wagon.

Wanting to stop referring to them as "the Stormcloak", "the horse thief", and "the gagged man" in his mind, but wanting to avoid bringing the soldier's attention to himself, Berin took a small breath and whispered an introduction.

"My name's Berin. I'm from Cheydinhal in Cyrodiil."

The Stormcloak looked at him with a raised brow and smirked.

"From Cyrodiil, eh? Decided you'd had enough of the Empire? Great! We could always use a good man in Skyrim. Name's Ralof. I come from the small village of Riverwood, near Whiterun. Joined the Stormcloaks 'cause I refuse to bow down to those who turn their backs on Talos! You come here to join?"

Berin glared at him for a long moment before answering.

"No, I did not come here to join the Stormcloaks."

Ralof's curiosity seemed awakened, as he rather rudely asked, "Why did you come then?"

"My reasons are my own." Berin snapped, his tone and expression effectively putting an end to the conversation.

Taking a deep breath to calm his emotions, he turned to the thief and asked, "What about you?"

"Lokir." The man mumbled.

Berin nodded in greeting and turned slightly to his right. _And that leaves..._

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" Lokir's voice interrupted the thought.

"Watch your tongue!" Ralof snapped. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

Berin's eyes widened in surprise, but quickly narrowed in disgust.

_Stuck in the back of a wagon with the leader of the Stormcloaks. Great._ He thought sarcastically as he shifted slightly away from the man, disgust plain on his face, though no-one noticed.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you..." Lokir's voice stopped as he realized what that meant. "Oh gods, where are they taking us?!"

"I don't know where we're going," Ralof's voice answered quietly. "but Sovngarde awaits."

"No! This can't be happening. This isn't happening!" Lokir's voice rang with fear and desperation.

For the next few minutes the only sounds to be heard were the creaking of the wheels and the quiet and desperate whispers of Lokir. Suddenly, Ralof spoke out.

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." He said softly.

"Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead."

Silence reigned once more as each man lost himself in his own thoughts. Berin took a good look at his surroundings to pass the time. It was a beautiful place, this Skyrim. They were currently riding through a dense forest high in the mountains where everything was covered in a thin layer of snow. Looking ahead of the wagon, he noticed that a fortified stone gate with Imperial guards patrolling the walkway was coming into view.

They had arrived.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" One of the soldiers called down to the man leading the wagons.

"Good." The General grunted. "Let's get this over with."

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me!" Lokir cried, hearing the exchange.

The gates groaned as they opened to allow the party into the town. As the general entered, he steered his horse over to where a small group of High Elves were waiting.

As the wagon passed the group, Ralof glared at them in disgust.

"Look at him," He spat. "General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves." Here Berin shot a glare at him, though he was too concentrated on the General to notice. "I bet they had something to do with this."

Looking around at the stone towers and log houses, a flash of recognition showed on his face. "This is Helgen." He said with a sigh. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." He stopped, his voice suddenly taking a slightly sorrowful tone. "Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

Seeing the forlorn expression on Ralof's face, Berin quickly looked away only to have his gaze caught on a small family on the porch of one of the houses. A young boy, appearing around ten years old, was watching the soldiers go by with an awe-struck look on his face. Berin was quickly lost to a memory where _**he **_was that little boy.

_**Berin was standing in the doorway holding his father's helmet as he watched him grimly put on his armor. Seeing that Berin was watching, he quickly put a bright smile on his face as he knelt down in front of him. He gently took his helmet from his son's clenched hands and placed it on his head before embracing Berin.**_

_**"Make sure you take care of your mother and sister for me, okay?"**_

_**The young Berin nodded and clasped a fist to his chest in a salute. Grinning, his father returned the salute, saying "For the Empire." before walking out the door of their house.**_

Berin was snapped back to the present when he heard the little boy's voice.

"Who are they, daddy?" He asked, looking at the prisoners in the back of the carts. "Where are they going?"

Looking around quickly, Berin noticed the headsman heading toward the chopping block. Eyes widening in alarm, he turned back to look at the boy. _Sweet Divines! _He thought. _Don't let him see this!_

The boy's father seemed to share this feeling, as he soon turned to his son.

"You need to go inside, little cub." He said in a slightly strained voice.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers!" The lad argued.

"Inside the house. Now."

"Yes, papa."

Berin closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. _No-one so young should see this._

"Whoa!"

His eyes snapped open and he whipped his head around to see that the other wagon had stopped and was being unloaded.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts! Move it!" The Captain shouted angrily.

Lokir looked around despairingly. "Why are we stopping?"

"Why do you think?" Ralof answered. "End of the line."

He looked at Berin with a grim smile. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

Berin smiled brightly, too brightly for one about to be executed, stunning the other Nord.

"Guess we shouldn't!" He said cheerily. _Or anyone else._

"No! Wait!" Lokir called to the guards. "We're not rebels!"

"Face your death with some courage, thief." Ralof muttered.

"You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

The Imperial Captain glared at them as they jumped out of the cart.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!" She shouted.

_For the love of the Divines, woman! We are right here! Stop shouting! _Berin thought with a grimace, his headache only getting worse.

The young soldier standing beside her grimly began to read the names on the list.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm." He called, glancing up at the man.

Ulfric kept his head held high as he walked quickly to where the other prisoners were gathered around the block.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof called to him.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The man refused to look up after reading this name and Berin noticed that he seemed to grow tense, his hand gripping the feather quill with unnecessary force. Ralof glared at him fiercely as he walked past.

_Strange._ Berin mused, glancing between the two of them. _Perhaps they knew each other before the war._

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No!" Lokir screamed, running up to the Captain. "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"

When the woman simply stared at him, Lokir lost control completely, quickly dodging around her and trying to run for the gate.

"Halt!" She screamed. Upon seeing that he had no intention of stopping, she quickly called out orders. "Archers!"

Berin turned away, not wishing to see his death. _Stupid. That was so stupid! He had to have known that he would never make it! _

Berin's thoughts were interrupted by the Captain.

"Anyone else feel like running?" She asked, glaring at him. Berin grimly shook his head and she nodded, satisfied.

"Wait." The man holding the list said. He looked between Berin and the list several times before calling out, "You there. Step forward."

Berin walked forward until he was only a few feet away.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Berin Velandus."

The soldier looked surprised for a moment, probably because of the last name. Berin discretely rolled his eyes. Everyone always reacted like this when he introduced himself, "That's an unusual name last name for a Nord." they always say. _Maybe because it's not a Nordic last name. _Berin thought, annoyed beyond belief.

The man recovered quickly, though, and said, "You picked a bad time to come home, kinsman." He turned to the woman. "Captain. What should we do? He's not on the list."

"Forget the list. He goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain." Turning back to Berin, he looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland."

Berin shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess." His countenance changed suddenly, becoming serious. "I just want to make one thing clear, so that no-one thinks otherwise." Berin looked him directly in the eye to make sure he understood. "_**I am not a Stormcloak**_, nor do I wish to be at all associated with them. I was trying to cross the border and somehow got tangled up in your ambush."

The man looked at him seriously for a moment, considering his words. Nodding, he said, "I understand. I wish it would change everything, but it doesn't."

"I know it doesn't." Berin said quietly. "I just wanted at least one person to know."

"Well..." He said slowly. "My name is Hadvar. I will make sure that you are not listed as a Stormcloak, but could you answer a few questions so I can put them down in the records?"

"Sure."

"Hair color? Eye color?"

Berin looked at him strangely, trying to figure out if he was joking.

"Sorry." Hadvar said sheepishly. "Protocol."

"Alright." Berin sighed. This really wasn't helping his headache. "Hair color: black. Eye color: green."

"Age?"

"19."

"Height?"

"Six feet, three inches."

"Place of origin?"

"I was born in Anvil, but I lived in Cheydinhal before coming to Skyrim."

Again Hadvar looked surprised. "Why did you come here?"

"Personal reasons." Berin muttered.

Hadvar looked curious for a moment but decided against pushing, noticing the Captain growing impatient.

"Alright, that should be good enough." He looked at Berin before nodding his head towards the Captain. "Follow the Captain, prisoner."

Bering nodded at him before turning and following the Captain to the now large group in front of the block.

Standing with the other prisoners, Berin noticed that a silent standoff seemed to be occurring between Ulfric Stormcloak and General Tullius. Suddenly the General began to speak.

"Ulfric Stormcloak." He snarled. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric grunted behind his gag.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

As soon as the General had ceased to speak a distant sound was heard, causing everyone gathered to stop and look around, trying to find the source. It was silent for a while before Hadvar spoke up.

"What was that?"

"It's nothing." Tullius said. "Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" The Captain said before turning to a robed woman behind her. "Give them their last rites."

The priestess raised her hands and began the prayer. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessing of the Eight Divines upon you-"

"Oh for the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" A man shouted as he stomped towards the block.

The priestess glared for a moment before walking away angrily. "As you wish."

Berin stared at the man, begrudgingly admiring his courage as stood at the block impatiently.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning!"

The Captain stepped up behind him and pushed him to his knees, then planted her foot on his back and shoved his neck to the wood. The executioner readied his axe and hesitated for a moment, giving the man time to say his last words.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

Berin closed his eyes as the axe swung down to it's mark, making a sickening sound as it cut through flesh and bone.

One of the female Stormcloaks, overcome by grief, cried out.

"You Imperial bastards!"

This seemed to anger the crowd of citizens, who called out "Justice!" and "Death to the Stormcloaks!"

Ralof looked sadly at the headless corpse that was being carried away for burial.

"As fearless in death as he was in life."

Berin opened his eyes and noticed the Captain looking at him.

"Next, the Nord in the rags!"

"Guess it's my turn." Berin muttered, getting ready to walk over to the Captain, only to stop as he heard the sound from before, though it seemed closer now. Apparently he wasn't the only one who heard it, as Hadvar spoke again.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?"

The Captain ignored the question, angrily calling out, "I said, next prisoner!"

Hadvar slowly turned to Berin. "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."

Berin walked quickly over to the Captain and turned towards the block. Upon being shoved to the ground and then kicked onto the block, he couldn't help but grimace.

_Could've done that myself, thanks. _He thought sarcastically.

Seeing the executioner lift his axe, he closed his eyes and whispered one last thing.

"I'm coming home, Anya."

Suddenly, a loud roaring was heard. Berin's eyes snapped open just in time to see a dark shape come from behind a mountain peak before disappearing from sight behind the tower.

"What in Oblivion is that?!" General Tullius yelled.

The captain called out to the patrolling guards, "Sentries! What do you see?!"

"It's in the clouds!"

Suddenly, the dark shape landed on top of one of the towers and glared down at the quivering group below. Berin's eyes finally focused on the creature before widening in shock and fear.

_It can't be! This is impossible!_

One of the Stormcloaks cried out, wiping away any doubts Berin had.

"Dragon!"

_Divines help us all._


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter two! Sorry it took so long, it was 50% I had a lot going on and 50% pure laziness. Beg pardon. Just a few notes that you won't read. One: This story is not only molded by my experiences with this character in the game, but also my personal take on certain aspects of the game. Two: I must reiterate that I hate the Stormcloaks. I do apologize to Order and Chaos - Qui Iudicant, because there is a bit of a thing against Ralof in this chapter. (He was the only Stormcloak available at the time. Sorry.) Three: Because I haven't said it yet, mostly because it's so obvious, this fanfiction will contain blood and violence, so if you're too young to be reading such things, please run away now. It's rated "T" for a reason people! **

**_I still don't own anything Bethesda._** **'Kay, I'm done. You can read now.**

* * *

The black dragon glared intently at Berin for a moment, though that moment felt like a lifetime for Berin, before opening his jaws widely. The executioner, expecting it to start breathing fire, yanked Berin from the ground and shoved him away from the dragon. Berin tumbled to the ground and rolled several feet before turning around just as the dragon let out a roar that sounded like thunder and shook the ground like an earthquake. Everyone staggered as they tried to keep their footing, but the executioner, still off balance from throwing Berin, stumbled and fell, hitting his head against the chopping block. Berin couldn't see if he was still breathing or not, but it ceased to matter when the dragon roared again, causing the sky to darken for a moment before large chunks of flaming rock began falling from the sky. Berin watched in horror as one fell directly on the body of the man who had saved his life.

Suddenly, Berin's head ached even more than before, throbbing as though someone was hitting his head with a hammer. His eyesight went blurry again and his heart beat out a frantic rhythm. He heard a distant and furious roar that seemed to come from deep within him, but he pushed the thought aside as he felt a strong gust of wind as the dragon took flight again.

As quickly as the pain had come, it was gone again, and Berin's eyes cleared enough to see the dragon circling above them, while the soldiers that were still able tried to shoot it down with their bows.

Berin felt his arm being tugged and he looked up to see Ralof trying to pull him to his feet.

"Hey, kinsman! Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!"

Berin quickly got to his feet and stared at the still fighting soldiers. General Tullius was calling out orders and trying to get the terrified townspeople to safety, all the while dodging flaming boulders. The archers were quickly running out of arrows and the dragon remained in the sky, completely unaffected.

"What does it take to bring this thing down?! Nothing is working!" One of the archers screamed out.

"Come on!" Ralof shouted, dragging Berin toward one of the towers. "This way!"

"But the dragon!" Berin argued angrily. "We need to fight it! We need to help!"

"We don't have weapons and your hands are tied! We need to run for right now!"

Berin looked down at hands and cursed, realizing that Ralof was right. There was nothing that he could do.

"Dammit! Fine! Alright! Let's go."

"Good! This way. Quickly!"

They ran as fast as they could to the nearest tower, avoiding fires and falling boulders the whole way and using each other for balance when they would stumble. When they finally reached the doorway, Ralof charged through and yanked Berin inside before slamming the door shut.

Berin looked aorund the room and was glad to notice that they weren't the only ones to make it to relative safety. Four others were gathered in the small room, including Ulfric Stormcloak. Two of the Stormcloak soldiers had been seriously injured and were lying on the ground while a third was tending their wounds.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof shouted from behind, causing Berin to turn around.

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric answered grimly.

Before Berin could interrupt and ask either man to untie his hands, a loud roar was heard and the entire tower shook violently.

"We need to move. Now!" Ulfric shouted.

Ralof grabbed Berin's arm and pulled him up the steps.

"Up through the tower, let's go!"

"What about the others?!" Berin shouted while trying to pull his arm away.

"Jarl Ulfric will help them! Come on! With me, up the tower!"

As they ran up the stairs something occured to Berin.

"Why in Oblivion are we going UP? What is that going to do for us, other than getting us closer to the dragon?!"

Ralof ignored him and continued up the stairs and Berin reluctantly followed. They reached the second level and found the stairs to the next level were blocked by rubble. A Stormcloak soldier was kneeling beside the rubble, frantically pulling at the stones blocking the path.

"We just need to move a few of these stones!" He called to them.

Ralof moved forward to help, leaving Berin glaring at his still bound hands, but before he could take more than a step forward the wall next to the soldier exploded. The dragon was clinging to the side of the tower and had rammed it's head through the wall.

"Get back!" Ralof shouted as he tottered backwards down the steps, only just managing to stay upright, with Berin right beside him. They made it halway down the steps before turning arund to see if the other man had made it with them, only to see the dragon open it's jaws and release a torrent of fire into the small room above.

"Gods above." Berin whispered in horror.

After several long moments the flames ceased and the dragon took to the skies again. Berin and Ralof slowly made their way back up the stairs, afraid of the sight that awaited them in the room.

When they stepped onto the landing they looked for the body of the Stormcloak and were somewhat relieved to find that the soldier had not died from the fire, but had been killed when the dragon smashed through the wall. Berin said a quick prayer to Arkay for him and then turned to Ralof.

"What should we do now? Up is definitely not an option anymore."

Ralof looked around for a moment, trying to find a means of escape. His eyes caught on the large hole in the wall of the tower and beyond that to the building nearby.

"Come on! Over here!" He said as he walked quickly to the wall. Berin followed, slightly reluctant, not really wanting to get any closer to the large hole that undoubtedly lead to a very long drop.

"See the inn on the other side?" Ralof asked quickly. Berin nodded faintly, not at all liking where this was going. "Jump through the roof and keep going!"

"_WHAT?!_" Berin yelled, eyes bulging in disbelief. "Are you crazy?!"

"It's either jump across to the inn or die in this tower!" Ralof snapped.

_Damn it! _Berin thought, knowing that Ralof was right. He glanced fearfully at the drop that was far too close to where he stood. _Why did it _have_ to be heights?!_

"Okay." Berin said finally. "Okay fine! Here goes nothing."

"Good! Go on." Ralof said, not noticing the reason for Berin's hesitance. He watched as Berin backed all the way to the opposite wall in preparation for the jump.

_Oh gods. Here we go._

Berin sprinted across the length of the room and vaulted off of the wall, launching himself into the air.

_OHGODSOHGODSOHGODS! _He thought in panic during the two second flight.

He hit the floor of the burning inn and rolled to lessen the impact, unfortunately rolling right into a small fire, catching the right leg of his trousers on fire. He yelled in pain and frantically patted at the flames, trying to put the fire out. The tight bindings on his hand made it difficult, but he was at last succesful. He looked at the damage to his leg and was relieved that while the skin was burned, it was nothing too severe and that he would still be able to walk without much pain. He stood carefully and turned back to the tower where Ralof was still standing.

"I'm okay!"

Ralof nodded and yelled back, "Good! Go on, we'll follow when we can!"

Berin started to argue but Ralof had already disappeared back into the tower. Deciding that Ralof knew what he was doing, Berin looked around the second floor of the inn trying to find a way down to the first floor. He noticed a hole in the floor and stepped over to it, carefully avoiding the fires that were burning all around him. He made it to the edge of the hole and stepped on it gingerly to make sure the charred wood would hold his weight. He looked down to make sure that there was nothing in the way and then stepped off the ledge, bending his knees to steady himself when he hit the ground. The pain in his lag flared up a bit, causing him to grimace.

_Not too bad. _He thought._ I'll have to be careful though._

He sprinted out out of the building through a hole in the wall and onto the street where he stopped in horror and disbelief. The air was filled with smoke and all around him was the burning rubble of what used to be a town. Parts of towers had collapsed and houses were quickly burning to nothing but ash.

"Haming, you need to get over here, now!"

Berin looked down the street to find the source of the voice. Squiting slightly to see though the smoke, he saw Hadvar trying to talk a boy away from his father's unconcious form.

"Come on, Haming! I need to make sure that you're safe and then I can help your da!" Hadvar called again.

Haming slowly backed away from his father before turning and running towards Hadvar.

"That a boy. You're doing great."

Suddenly a dark shadow passed over them and the black dragon dove out of the sky to land heavily a few yards away from the figure on the ground, making the ground shake violently.

"Torolf!" Hadvar yelled hopelessly.

The dragon opened it's maw and Berin, knowing what would happen next, called out a warning.

"Run! NOW!" Berin roared to Hadvar as he ran behind the building nearest to him.

Hadvar heard his shout and grabbed Haming around the waist, calling to an old man that Berin hadn't noticed before.

"Gods! Everyone get back!"

They took cover with Berin with mere seconds to spare. No sooner had they all crouched behind the wall of the house, a blast of fire flooded the street behind them.

The flames cut off several moments later and they felt the ground shake once again as the dragon took off. Hadvar looked at Berin and raised his brow when he noticed that his hands were still bound.

"Still alive, prisoner?" He asked, slightly surprised that he had made it this far without the use of his hands. "Stay close to me if you want to stay that way."

Berin nodded in response and Hadvar turned to the other man.

"Gunnar, take care of the boy." He said, glancing down at the crying boy. "I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

Gunnar picked the boy up and nodded.

"Gods guide you, Hadvar."

Hadvar nodded in thanks and gestured for Berin to follow him before running toward the only path forward, which ran between a burning house and a mostly intact stone wall. As they neared the wall, Hadvar called to Berin over his shoulder.

"Stay close to the wall!"

When they got to the wall Berin ran as close to it as he could, seeing Hadvar do the same. He heard wings above him and looked up just in time to see the dragon land on the wall. The dragon swung it's wings to the ground to steady itself and Berin's eyes widened when he realized that Hadvar was directly in the path of one of the wings. He put on an extra burst of speed.

"Look out!" He yelled before knocking Hadvar to the ground, ending up standing in his place. Unable to get out of the way in time, Berin took the hit that would have hit Hadvar. He felt the wing hit his right side and yelled in pain before being knocked off his feet and thrown though the air, only to collide with the wall several feet away with another yell as he felt several ribs crack. He fell to the ground and laid there, hearing the dragon breathing fire at something before taking off again.

With a pained groan, he struggled to get to his feet without much success until he felt hands pull him up. Berin looked up to Hadvar and nodded his thanks.

"You okay?" Berin asked, groaning slightly at he stood up straight.

"Am I okay?" Hadvar asked incredulously, before shaking his head slightly. "Yes, I'm fine thanks to you. Come on. I can hear the general."

They climbed up a set of stairs and made their way carefully through the ruins of a burning house before they found the rest of the troops gathered around the gate. Hadvar immediately ran toward General Tullius for orders, but only made it halfway to him when the general noticed him.

"Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier! We're leaving!" He shouted.

"Yes, sir!" Hadvar yelled before running back to Berin. "It's you and me, prisoner! Stay close!"

He led Berin under an arched walkway toward the largest stone building in the now ruined town, which Berin assume was the keep. Before they could make it to the door of the keep a man ran out in front of them, causing them to stop in their tracks.

"Ralof!" Hadvar snarled angrily. "You damned traitor. Out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." Ralof answered sneeringly.

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

Ralof looked at Berin and grinned. "You! Come on, into the keep!" He called as he ran to the nearest door. He stopped at the door and turned to look at Berin expectingly.

Hadvar had already made it to a different door and called over to Berin. "Come on, Berin! Let's go!"

Berin turned to Ralof and grinned before throwing him a mocking salute and yelling, "For the Empire!" He turned back and ran over to Hadvar, who threw the door open and ushered him inside before following him though and slamming the door shut.

It took a moment for Berin to adjust to the silence and darkness of the keep. When he could finally see in the dim, torch-lit room he saw that it was a small living area, complete with beds, an eating area, and weapon racks along a few of the walls.

He turned to Hadvar, who was leaning against the wall breathing heavily. Now that the threat of death was at least partially kept at bay, Berin noticed just how tired and out of breath _he _was, not to mention the aches and pains that were now quickly becoming apparent as he calmed down. He limped over to one of the beds nearby and collapsed onto it, groaning as his cracked ribs protested the movement.

It was silent for a few minutes as each man thought about what was happening outside.

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it." Hadvar said finally.

Berin merely grunted as a reply, still trying to regain his breath and control the pain that was now pulsating through his torso. Carefully, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position and turned towards Hadvar. Hadvar seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking again.

"Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?" He asked quietly in disbelief, more to himself than to Berin.

"Sounds impossible," Berin agreed slowly. "... but is there any other explation for what happened out there? The destruction outside is proof of it. Dragons have returned."

They were silent once again, until a loud roar outside the door reminded them of what was out there. Hadvar stepped away from the wall and pulled a dagger from the small sheath at his belt.

"We need to keep moving. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off."

Berin struggled to his feet and walked over, sticking his hands out. It took a minute for the small dagger to cut through the tough ropes, but at last it sawed through. Berin muttered his thanks and rubbed at his wrists, trying to get some feeling back into his hands. His wrists were red and raw from the rough rope and he knew that they would scar, but couldn't find it in himself to care much. He glanced at his left hand and was overjoyed to find that the small gold band was still in place. He fingered it gently for a moment before he heard Hadvar speak.

"There you go." Hadvar nodded as he resheathed his dagger, and his eyes caught on the glint of gold on Berin's hand. He stared at it questioningly for a moment, but put his curiousity aside for the time being and gestured to the room. "Take a look around, there should be plenty of gear to choose from. I'm going to try and find something for these burns."

"Alright. Hope I can find something that'll fit me." Berin said sheepishly, gesturing at his tall frame. "I couldn't help but notice that I'm a bit taller than almost everyone else here."

"Don't worry." Hadvar said, chuckling at Berin's attempt to lighten the horrible situation a bit. "We have a few soldiers here that are as tall as you."

"Good! I came to Skyrim with the hope that I would feel less like a giant!" Berin replied with a laugh.

Berin heard Hadvar chuckle again as he turned to the chest at the end of the bed that he had been sitting on. Inside he found a large pouch with several gold coins and a leather helmet with the Imperial dragon symbol emblazoned on the back, which he quickly slipped on his head, despite the slight twinge from a lump on the back of his head.

_Well, that would explain the headache. _He thought wryly.

He finished going through the rest of the chests in the room, finally finding a suitable set of leather armor in a chest across the room. He quickly took off the rags that served him as clothes, grimacing as his ribs throbbed with pain. He looked down to see that most of his right side was covered in one very large, very purple bruise and his right leg had burns all across the skin. He groaned loud enough to call Hadvar's attention.

"Are you okay?" When Berin turned towards him he hissed in sympathy. "Ouch. Damn. Are you going to be able to walk like that?"

"Nope. But I think I can make it at least a little bit better." Berin answered. He turned his attention to his left hand and concentrated hard. After a moment his hand started to glow with a golden light and he gently pressed it to his chest, running it along the bruise. Hadvar watched in amazement as the bruise faded until it was only slightly purple in a few places.

"You know restoration magic?"

"Somewhat." Berin answered, as he moved his hand to the burns on his leg, making them diminish to almost nothing. "I only know this spell and it takes a lot for me to be able to do even this much. It doesn't heal everything, and I definitely can't heal the bones, but I should be able to at least move without too much pain now."

Hadvar nodded and moved away search the rest of the room for anything useful. Berin turned back to the armor he had found and slid into the red tunic before pulling the leather jerkin over that and tightening the buckles. He slid the boots onto his feet and was happy when he felt only a little pain from the lingering burns on his leg.

He turned to the weapon racks beside him and was disappointed to find only a few swords. He shrugged and grabbed one from the rack, giving it a few swings to make sure that it was balanced properly. Deciding that it was good enough, he pulled the sheath from the rack and strapped it to his belt, sliding the blade home.

Above the chest that had held the armor he found, Berin noticed a key hanging from a small hook. He picked it up and looked at a moment before shrugging and sticking it in the pouch with the gold, thinking that it might come in handy.

He turned to Hadvar and nodded. "I'm ready."

"Good. Let's get moving then." Hadvar replied as he walked over to the wooden gate blocking the hallway to the rest of the building and pulled the chain hanging beside it.

The gate opened slowly and they made their way through the now-open doorway. They walked in silence for a while before Hadvar decided to ask the question that had been sitting in the back of his mind for over an hour, since he filled out the report on Berin.

"So..." He began hesitantly, wary of Berin's possible reaction. "Why did you come to Skyrim?"

He regretted the question immediately. Berin's shoulders stiffened and his expression changed to one of desolation and grief until he was able to put up a blank mask.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that."

"No." Berin said quietly. "No, it's fine." He lifted up his left hand and pointed to the gold ring on his finger. "Didn't you wonder why I wear this?"

Hadvar nodded slowly. "I did notice it. Where is she? Did she not come with you?" Realization came to him suddenly and his eyes widened in horror. "Oh gods. Anya?" Berin looked at him in surprise. "I heard what you whispered before the dragon came. Is she...?"

Berin nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "Three months ago."

"I'm sorry."

"I just... couldn't stay there anymore. Not without her." Berin whispered, his voice breaking.

They walked in silence for a minute, when Hadvar heard Berin chuckling. Surprised, he turned toward him and raised a questioning brow.

Still laughing quietly, even as he blinked back tears, Berin answered the unspoken question. "It's just... if she were to see me right now, she'd knock me on my ass."

That startled a laugh out of Hadvar as he turned the corner and entered a small room with a wooden gate blocking the other doorway. Hadvar walked over to the chain to the right of the gate and reached out to pull it, but stopped short when he heard voices from the other side. Berin quickly moved to the left of the gate and stood against the wall to avoid being seen, with Hadvar doing the same.

"We need to move! That dragon is tearing up the whole keep!" A male voice said urgently.

"Just give me a minute. I'm out of breath." A woman answered wearily between heavy breaths.

Hadvar leaned away from the wall and eased his head in between two bars of the gate to look into the other room. His eyes widened and he quickly pulled back to look at Berin.

"Stormcloaks." He whispered just loud enough for Berin to hear. "Maybe we can reason with them."

Berin nodded and gestured for him to pull the chain to open the gate.

The Stormcloaks spun around when they heard the gate open, and put their hands on their weapons when Berin and Hadvar walked through the doorway.

"Hold on now!" Hadvar began. "We only want to-"

He was interrupted when both Stormcloaks drew their weapons and charged, yelling battle cries. The woman targeted Hadvar, while the man charged right at Berin.

Berin cursed loudly and jumped back to avoid the first swing of the man's battle-axe, drawing his sword in the same movement.

"Wait, damn it!" He yelled angrily, dancing out of range. "We could be helping each other!"

"Why would we help Legion scum?" The man shouted back, raising his batteaxe for another strike. "Skyrim belongs to the Nords!"

Rage ignited within Berin. _**This **_was exactly the attitude that made him hate the Stormcloaks. When the soldier swung again, he ducked underneath the intended blow and came back up with a thrust of his sword, impaling the man through the stomach. He leaned closer to the man's face, glaring at him furiously.

"Skyrim belongs to any that would call it home." He said angrily, before pulling his sword from the man's gut and letting the body fall to the floor.

Hearing the clash of steel, he turned to see Hadvar still fighting the woman. He moved to help, but stopped when Hadvar ended the fight with a quick swing of his sword, cutting the woman's head from her shoulders.

They both stood for a moment while they regained their breath, before Berin crouched down beside the dead Stormcloak and began cleaning his sword on the blue uniform. Satisfied with the lack of blood on the weapon, he stood and slid the blade back in it's sheath before looking to Hadvar.

"Mind if I check their pockets for anything useful?" He asked, knowing that looting was not always looked upon favorably.

"Go ahead. We might need it."

Berin nodded and went to work searching through the pockets of the two soldiers they had killed, finding only a few gold coins that he slipped into his coin purse.

"Where did you learn how to fight?" Hadvar asked, examining the corpse of the man that Berin had fought.

"My father was in the Legion. He taught me some when I was a boy. Most I learned when I worked as a guard for a merchant caravan."

Moving to a body that was half-hidden under a table, he noticed the handle of a smaller weapon sticking out from under the corpse. Tugging the body over, he grabbed the handle and pulled out an iron war axe, which he tucked in his belt with a triumphant grin.

"Alright." Berin said as he stood. "Looks like that's it."

Hadvar nodded and moved toward the metal gate on the other side of the room. Putting his hand on the bars of the gate and pushed, only to find the door locked and unmoving. He pushed harder, trying to force to lock, with no luck. Finally, he stepped back with a furrowed brow and leveled a powerful kick directly at the lock, but the door remained unmoved. He turned to Berin and shook his head.

"No good. We're not getting through this door without the key."

"Oh! Key! Right!" Berin stammered, frantically digging through his pockets. Hadvar raised a brow, but said nothing. Finally, Berin reached into his coin pouch and exclaimed triumphantly. "Ah ha! I knew I it was here somewhere!"

Hadvar shot him an incredulous look. "Seriously? You had the key the whole time?"

Berin grinned sheepishly, slipping the key into the lock and turning. With an audible click the door unlocked and swung open.

They followed the hallway down a long staircase and around a corner, keeping alert for any signs of danger. They had made it halfway down the corridor when they heard a loud roar, followed by the entire building shaking violently enough to throw them both to the floor. Berin groaned as the ache in his ribs intensified from the fall. Hadvar struggled to his feet, rubbing the back of his head where it impacted with the floor, then turned and helped Berin stand. They stood still for a moment, but everything seemed to have settled. Hadvar took a few hesitant steps forward, but had only made it a few feet before Berin noticed dust falling from rapidly forming cracks in the ceiling.

"Hadvar!" He bellowed as he lunged forward to grab the back of Hadvar's armor, yanking him back just in time. A large portion of the ceiling collapsed, blocking the entire passage and sending a dense cloud of dust into the air. Coughing violently, they stepped back and waited several minutes for the air to clear.

"Thanks. Again." Hadvar said once he could breathe again.

"No problem." Berin answered between coughs, still trying to clear the dust from his lungs.

"Damn." Hadvar groaned as he looked at the wreckage blocking their way. "That dragon doesn't give up easy."

"I think I saw a door back there. Should we check it?"

Hadvar nodded and followed him to the door, only to stop when they heard loud voices from inside.

"What are you doing? We need to get out of Helgen!"

"Hold on! The Imperials have potions in storerooms like these. We'll need them!"

"Here we go again." Hadvar whispered grimly. "At least we know this leads to somewhere."

Berin grunted in reply and drew his sword, passing it to his left hand and pulling the war axe from his belt with the other.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

Hadvar pushed the door open quietly and they crept into the room. Across the room from them, two Stormcloaks were digging through barrels looking for supplies. When they were sure that there were only two enemies in the room, Hadvar and Berin sprinted as quietly as they could to close the distance between themselves and the soldiers. Unfortunately, the impact of their boots on the floor alerted the Stormcloaks to their presence before they had even made it half-way across the room.

Berin soon found himself facing a man wielding a greatsword, jumping backwards to avoid the first swing and batting the sword away with his own. With the soldier advancing on him, he quickly ducked under the next swing, hooking onto the sword with the curve of his axe to guide the blade over his head and causing the soldier to stumble and lose his footing. Stepping closer and freeing his axe with a flick of his wrist, he swung it with a yell and sliced across the man's chest, blood spraying from the gaping wound and splattering on Berin's face and chest. The man howled in pain and stumbled back, dropping his sword to reach up and try to stop the flow of blood. Grimly, Berin stepped forward and stabbed him through the heart to end his pain quickly.

Pulling the sword out, he heard a shout and spun around to see the other soldier's axe descending toward his head. Unable to bring either of his weapons up in time to block, Berin closed his eyes and waited for what he knew would be his death. Instead of feeling the blow, however, he heard the sickening sound of a blade meeting flesh and felt warm spray hit his face. He opened his eyes just in time to see Hadvar pull his sword from the Stormcloak's back and the body fall to the floor.

"You okay?" Hadvar asked, wincing as he sheathed his sword.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks. You're obviously not though."

"Heh, it's just a scratch." Another wince. "Hurts like hell though."

"Maybe the Stormcloaks had the right idea." Berin mused, glancing around the room. "You go check the door and make sure we actually have a way out of here. I'll look around for some supplies. Just in case though," Here he crouched and pulled the blue cloth from around the dead soldier's shoulders, ripping some of it into strips. "We need to control the bleeding. These should work well enough."

Working quickly, he pressed a large folded square of cloth on the wound and used the strips to tie it down tightly, ignoring Hadvar's wince.

"There." He said, tying the last knot. "That should do it."

Hadvar clapped his shoulder in thanks and wandered over to the door, opening it cautiously and peering through the crack. Seeing the hallway clear of both rubble and enemies, he called back to Berin.

"Looks like we're good. No rubble blocking the way and no Stormcloaks to stab us in the back."

"Good. I just need a minute more."

After checking a few more barrels, Berin walked over to Hadvar, throwing the strap of a courier's bag over his head so it settled across his chest. Digging around in the bag for a moment, he pulled out a small pink bottle and handed it to Hadvar.

"Here, this should help your shoulder."

Hadvar took the bottle and downed the liquid in one gulp, his face scrunching up as he tasted it's bitterness. Berin laughed heartily at his face and took the empty bottle, slipping it back in his bag.

"All right, we should get moving." Berin said when he finally finished laughing and started walking to the door.

"Wait. You should probably drink one too."

"I already drank half of one. It'll speed up the healing process some, but bones are better left to heal by themselves."

"You sure know a lot about it."

"Well," Berin shrugged. "You meet some interesting people on the road, people that will usually talk your ear off about their profession. I picked up a few things."

"Well, it's certainly coming in handy. Let's get going then. Hopefully we'll find a way out soon."

"That would be nice." Berin agreed, leading the way through the door.

* * *

**Azura only knows when I'll update next, but I promise I will try to make it quicker this time.**


	3. Author Announcement

Hey guys! SkoomaPirate here! (Not that it'd be anyone else.) Sorry it's been... Ummmm... Hold on. *Looks at last update* Oh GEEZ! Almost four months since my last update! My bad. Anyway, I'm not abandoning this story, I promise! My mind just seems to be more interested with coming up with ideas for both later in THIS story and ideas for OTHER stories, instead of what needs to be written for the current point in the story! (Seriously, it's flooded my brain with ideas for like 15 other stories, no exaggeration. Help me.) It's particularly enamored with an extensive idea for a Bioshock Infinite story (because Bioshock Infinite is infinitely awesome *falls over laughing at own joke*). And so we come to the point of this note: I'm putting this story on break for an unknown amount of time. I'll still be working on it, but I won't be posting any chapters even if I finish some. I'll build up a store of chapters for both Of Blood and Dragons and whatever I manage to write for the Infinite story so I'll be able to post a bit more reliably. Again! Not abandoning this story! I'll even write it from the grave if I have to! I'll use some kind of ghostly internet provider or something! So have fun reading something better than this! SkoomaPirate out!


	4. Chapter 3

**Yeah, remember when I said that I wasn't going to post anymore chapters until I actually finished writing the story? Welllll... I'm a dirty, stinking, rotten liar that lies a lot. Sorry. Just felt like posting this chapter, and unfortunately I've barely even started on the fourth. Heh. (Berin and Serana hate me right now. A lot.) **

**Still don't own anything Elder Scrolls (except for a whole bunch of merchandise that I bought!)**

* * *

"Oh thank the Divines!" Hadvar cried out. "This looks like the way out! I was beginning to wonder if we'd ever make it."

Berin grunted wearily in agreement. After two hours of running through halls and then cave tunnels, fighting whatever got in their way (whether it was a group of Stormcloaks, giant spiders, or a gods-damned cave bear), he felt like he'd been trampled by an angry horse.

They'd only taken a few steps out of the cave when Hadvar slowed and held up his hand. "Wait. Do you hear that?"

Berin listened for a moment before his eyes widened at the sound of huge wingbeats approaching quickly.

"Get under cover!" He whispered urgently, diving back into the darkness of the cave entrance. Hadvar, being too far from the cave to find cover there, quickly ducked under the thick branches of a nearby tree. Mere seconds after they were both hidden, a roar sounded and the black dragon responsible for the destruction of Helgen dove from the clouds and flew to the northwest.

Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, Berin cautiously stepped out of the cave's shadows. "Looks like he's gone, hopefully for good."

"I don't think we should stick around to see." Hadvar replied with a tense chuckle.

"Agreed."

As they started down the hill, Hadvar looked around to get his bearings.

"The closest town from here is Riverwood. It's about a three hour walk, so we should be able to get there before sundown. My uncle's the blacksmith there, he should be able to help us out."

"Alright then, let's go before it gets any later." Berin said as he glanced up at the sun. "I'd rather not get caught out here in the dark, especially with no shelter."

Hadvar nodded and took the lead, walking down the dirt path through the trees.

* * *

"Riverwood is just around this bend, almost there." Hadvar said tiredly, four hours of walking later.

"Thank the gods." Berin groaned. "The sun's almost gone and I think my feet abandoned me several miles ago."

Hadvar chuckled as they walked around the bend and Riverwood came into view. Hadvar studied it for several moments before nodding. "Everything looks normal here. Come on, there's my uncle." He said, pointing at a tall, burly man hunched over something on a worktable. He started towards the town again before he was stopped by Berin.

"Wait!" Berin said quickly, grabbing his arm. "We probably don't want people to know about the dragon, correct? Avoid a panic?"

"That would probably be a good idea, yes." Hadvar replied sarcastically, his raised brow silently questioning Berin's point.

Berin raised a brow of his own. "I don't know about you, but if two armed and armored men, covered in blood, soot, and gods-know-what-else came walking into my town, I would probably panic a little!" He said in exasperation.

Eyes wide, Hadvar looked down at himself. "Oh..." He said sheepishly, taking in the filth covering his armor and skin. "Good point."

"I certainly thought so." Berin replied, with a roll of his eyes. "Let's go to the river and clean up a bit. Can't change clothes, but maybe we can be a bit less conspicuous."

Luckily the river was only a dozen feet off the road, so they quickly made their way over. Berin knelt at the river bank and cupped some water in his hands, glad that it wasn't icy, but stopped short as a thought came to him.

"Wait a minute!" He exclaimed, turning to glare accusingly at Hadvar. "Why was I unconcious in the wagon?!"

"Oh... um. That may have been me. Sorry." Hadvar said, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "In my defense, you were wearing a blue shirt and leather armor."

Berin grumbled and gingerly touched the aching knot on the back of his head, but let it go before asking, with no small amount of desperation, "What about my bag? I was carrying a bag with my things in it!"

Hadvar grimaced. "I had attached it to the saddle of my horse. It's still in what's left of Helgen, if it survived at all. I'm sorry."

Berin turned around for a moment, blinking away tears at the loss of the only picture he had of his wife. "Damn it!" With a sigh, turned back to the river and cleaning the blood off his hands and arms.

When they were as clean as they could get, they returned to the road and walked under the wooden walkway that served as both entrance to the town and a guard post, though Berin couldn't see anyone actually on guard.

Walking over to the smithy, Hadvar called out a greeting. "Uncle Alvor! Hello!"

The burly man turned at the sound of Hadvar's voice and a large grin grew on his face. "Hadvar! What are you doing here? Are you on leave from.." He trailed off and his eyes grew wide as Hadvar and Berin got closer and he got a good look at Hadvar. "Shor's bones! What happened to you, boy?!"

"And this is with us cleaning up." Berin muttered to Hadvar.

Alvor looked between the two of them before hesitatingly asking, "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Shh... Uncle, please. Keep your voice down." Hadvar answered, casting furtive glaces around to make sure that no-one could hear. "I'm fine, but we should go inside to talk."

Alvor began casting between the two battered men in front of him. "What's going on, Hadvar? And who's this?"

"He's a friend. Saved my life in fact!"

The blacksmith's eyes widened again and he looked at Hadvar concernedly.

"Come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside."

"Okay, okay." Alvor sighed. "Come inside then. Sigrid will get you something to eat and you can tell me all about it over supper, you both look like you could use it."

"We won't argue with you there, sir. Thank you." Berin said in thanks.

As Alvor led them into the house he called inside, "Sigrid! We have company!"

Berin was the last one inside and just before he closed the door he heard an old woman's voice call out from across the street.

"A dragon! I saw a dragon!"

He quickly shut the door and leaned his forehead against the wood with a groan, before turning around and looking at the room curiously.

The small part of the interior that he could see was cozy. The walls and floor were lined with furs to trap warmth inside the house, while a fire blazed in the fireplace with a pot of delicious smelling stew simmering above the flames. Two beds were set against the walls to the right of the door along with a large wardrobe and a small table that had several books stacked upon it. On the opposite side of the room stood a large dining table, set in front of the fireplace so the family could eat next to the warmth of the flames.

Berin's examination of the room was interrupted by a gasp and a small blur as a young girl made it to the top of a staircase that he hadn't seen before and flung herself at Hadvar with a cry.

"Hadvar, you're back! I've missed you!"

Hadvar grinned and knelt to hug her properly. "Hey Dorthe! I've missed you too, little princess! Have you been keeping Frodnar in line?"

Dorthe giggle mischievously and nodded before calling back down the stairs, "Momma! Hurry! Hadvar's home!"

There was a clashing of pots downstairs before hurried steps were heard on the staricase and a woman rushed into the room.

"Hadvar!" She cried with a smile, rushing over and hugging him. Pulling back after a moment, she cupped his face in her hands and inspected him for injuries, looking very much like a mother hen. "We've been so worried about you!"

"I'm fine, Aunt Sigrid!" He said with a smile as he leaned down to kiss her cheek." Well, as fine as a soldier can be."

She smacked his shoulder and turned to Berin with a kind smile. "And who's this?"

Berin quickly took his helmet off and bowed respectfully. "My name's Berin, ma'am."

She laughed warmly before grabbing his and Hadvar's arms and dragging them over to the table. "Come, you two must be hungry. Sit down while I get you something to eat."

Once they were all seated at the table with bowls of warm stew in front of them, Alvor turned to Hadvar. "Now then, boy. What's the big mystery? What are you doing here, looking lke you lost an argument with a cave bear?"

Berin and Hadvar looked at each other and shared a rueful laugh.

"Well, he's not exactly wrong, but we won the argument with the cave bear. It was the _dragon _we lost the argument with." Berin said with a grim chuckle.

Everyone but Hadvar looked at him disbelivingly, until Hadvar's answering nod confirmed it, which cause a gasp and concerned look to the both of them from Sigrid. Alvor made a questioning sound to call Hadvar's attention back to the explanation, and Hadvar obliged with a sigh.

"I don't know where to start." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "You know I was assigned to General Tullius's guard. We were stopped in Helgen for the execution of our prisoners," Here he cast an apologetic glance to Berin, who shrugged. "When we were attacked... by a _dragon_."

"A dragon?!" Alvor exclaimed incredulously. "That's... ridiculous. You aren't drunk, are you boy?"

"Believe me, we wish we were." Berin answered for the both of them.

Alvor was about to continue when Sigrid interrupted. "Husband. Let him tell their story." She chided gently.

Hadvar nodded at her gratefully before continuing. "Not much more to tell. This huge dragon flew over and just wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion." He shook his head sadly. "I don't know if anyone else got out alive. I doubt I'd have made it out myself if not for Berin here."

Sigrid looked at them both with tears in her eyes while her husband just look shocked.

"He says that like he didn't save my life as many times as I saved his." Berin said quickly, trying to avoid any unnecessary gratitude, but the sentence seemed to make Sigrid break. Bursting into tears, she quickly got up and went over to throw her arms around Hadvar, whispering over and over again how happy she was that he was safe. Alvor walked over beside her and gripped Hadvar's shoulder, holding back tears of his own at the thought of almost losing the boy who was as close as a son to him.

Berin watched all this from his chair, feeling slightly out of place as Hadvar picked up a teary Dorthe and laughingly reassured his family that he was _fine_, other than a few scrapes and bruises. He was surprised when Sigrid broke away from Hadvar only to wrap him in a motherly embrace.

"Thank you. He's been very much our son ever since we took him in when his parents died. I don't know what we'd do without him. We'll never forget this."

Berin returned her hug with a quiet, "You're welcome."

"Now!" Sigrid exclaimed, pulling away from Berin and wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Finish your suppers while I find some clothes for the both of you. When you're finished, go down to the river and bathe! You both smell!"

Hadvar and Berin both blushed as Dorthe began to giggle and Alvor filled the small house with a hearty laugh.

* * *

Three hours later, Berin lay huddled beneath a blanket, clean and tired, but very much awake. When he and Hadvar had come back from the river, Sigrid had set up two pallets for them in front of the fire, but as soon as everyone else had dropped into sleep he had picked up his makeshift bed and moved down into the basement. Though it was much cooler than in front of the fireplace, he had no desire to wake the others should he wake loudly in the middle of the night, a circumstance that has happened for too many times in the past few months.

Unthinkingly, his right hand went to the wedding band on his left, spinning the warm metal around his finger. His last thoughts before sleep claimed him were of the two most beloved women in his life... both of whom he had lost.

_Anya. Zeliza_

* * *

_Pictures and scenes from his memories flew through his mind almost faster than he could comprehend, but some stood out far too much..._

_The way she had looked when he woke up the morning after their wedding. Her dark hair beautifully mussed, a slight smile on her parted lips, her dark skin shining in the morning sunlight, her cheeks still rosy from their first time together. Then he had to restrain a laugh as the goddess sleeping beside him loosed a loud snore. (He had teased her about it when she woke, to be rewarded with an indignant yelp and a cry of "I do NOT snore!" before she grabbed the back of his head and silenced his laughter by crushing her lips to his, continuing the night's activities.)_

_The sound of her voice as she sang in the taverns of the cities they stayed at while he looked for caravans who needed a guard._

_The look in her eyes as she stared at him whenever he trained with the other guards and the rather distracting outfit she would wear when she wanted to train with them (Though it was mostly him, since he kept her away from the other men when she was dressed so scantily, and it always led to a reenactment of their wedding night.)_

_The joy on her face as she told him that she was with child. That he was going to be a father._

_When she had grabbed his hand and dragged him to the small house in Cheydinhal and announced that it was to be their home._

* * *

_He came home from guard duty on the wall and smiled when he found the map she had drawn for him. Following the path she had laid out and reading the notes of encouragement and love she left at any convenient landmark, he finally came upon a sight that took his breath away. She had set up a picnic on the island in the middle of the river and was sitting on a blanket, singing softly to the babe in her womb as she waited for him. He stood for several minutes just staring at her, admiring the way her violet skin shone in the light of the setting sun, before finally walking to her quietly and sitting himself behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and settling his hands on her swollen stomach gently. He hummed a lullaby in her ear when she leaned back against his chest and placed a kiss on the tip of her pointed ear, inciting a giggle to bubble from her lips and causing the babe to kick against his hands. Her giggle turned into a musical laugh when his face erupted into joy upon feeling his child move. Still grinning happily, he placed his chin on her shoulder and leaned his head against hers._

_"What should we name the baby?"_

_"Well," Anya replied with a soft smile. "I was thinking about naming her Zeliza."_

_"Her?" Berin asked with a raised brow and a grin. "What if it's a boy?"_

_"Nope! It's a girl."_

_"How can you tell?" He teased, tickling her sides._

_"Mother's intuition." She replied haughtily, drawing herself up proudly, before succuming to more giggles as he tickled her again. Her face softened though, and she turned to face him fully. "I was thinking Zeliza for both of our mothers."_

_He gave her a sad smile and tightened his arms around her. "Zeliza it is then. It's lovely." He pulled her closer and captured her lips with his and they said nothing more for a time, simply enoying being together._

_But the visions of hapiness in the dream abruptly turned into his worst nightmare._

_They had been so happy when she first went into labor. Nervous, of course, but blissfully happy that they would soon be able to hold their daughter in their arms. Now all Berin felt was terror as he paced outside their bedroom. It had been hours, so many hours, since the healers had pushed him out into the hall so they could work, promising with smiles that he would soon be holding his child. So many hours had gone by, filled with nothing but the sound of Anya's agonized screams and the unintelligible murmers of the healers. Suddenly it was quiet and Berin turned to the door in hope, waiting for someone to finally come out and tell him that he was a father. But it was too quiet, far too quiet. Shouldn't the baby be crying out for warmth and her mother's arms? The door opened slowly and Berin took a step forward with a tremulous smile on his lips that disappeared when one of the healers stepped out covered in blood, too much blood, holding a bloody blanket that was too still, far too still and what was wrong? Is she asleep? Berin stared at the woman uncomprehendingly as she stepped forward and placed the bundle in his arms, whispering "I'm so sorry" before stepping back._

_He stared at the still unmoving form in his arms. She was so beautiful, just like her mother. She had inherited the dark indigo skin of her mother and he wondered if her eyes were the same deep red color. He wished she would open her eyes. His eyes quickly checked on the rest of her body, wondering what was wrong, wondering why the healer was looking at him like that, when his eyes fell to her small chest and he understood. The tiny body that should be full of breath and LIFE was still, unmoving._

_Dead._

_"No. No! Gods, please no!" Came the despaired cry as he fell to his knees, kissing her small forehead as tears fell down his face, over and over again, as if he could bring life back to her by will and love alone. He stayed there for many minutes, clutching the small body of his daughter as sobs wracked his body, but was brought back to himself as a new wave of terror crashed through him._

_"Anya?" He croaked out desperately._

_The woman shook her head sadly. "She..."_

_But Berin didn't stay to hear. Lurching to his feet, he stumbled past the healers, only to stop in his tracks the second he caught sight of his beloved wife. She had been stripped of her own clothes when she first went into labor, but the healers had put a white gown on her when the birth was over._

_Berin cried out with relief when he saw her chest move with the weak breaths that she took. The healing woman behind him stepped forward quickly, not wanting him to hope, knowing that Anya would soon be leaving this world. "She doesn't have long. She lost too much blood." She ushered the few others out of the room to leave him in peace to say goodbye, stopping only to say her condolences once again before closing the door._

_Fresh tears rolling down his face, he slowly made his way over to their bed, lying down beside her and taking her hand, still holding his precious daughter close to his chest._

_Anya's eyes fluttered open as she felt his familiar weight settle beside her and she threaded her fingers through his, clutching his hand with as much strength as she could muster. Seeing her husband so broken brought tears to her eyes, but she knew that she would be leaving soon, so she swallowed back her tears and gave him a small, sad smile. "I love you."_

_"I love you too." He managed through a tight throat. "So much. Please! You can't leave me! Please!" He begged through sobs, turning on his side and burying his face in her shoulder, cradling Zeliza between them._

_Weakly, she raised the hand he wasn't holding and ran her fingers across his face, tracing the features of the man she loved so much. "I don't want to leave you, love, but there are some things you just can't change. I'll see you again someday." She stroked Zeliza's hair for a moment before cupping his cheek and wiping away his tears. "We will both be waiting for you."_

_They stayed like that for many minutes, but with each passing second Anya's movements became slower, her fingers colder. Finally, in a voice barely a whisper, Anya made her final request. "Berin?" He raised his head and his bloodshot eyes met her glazed ones. "Let me hold her please. Hold me?" Berin nodded and gently placed Zeliza in her arms and wrapped his own around her as tightly as he could without hurting her, and he remained like that long after her heart had stopped and his had died in his chest._

* * *

Berin woke with a choked gasp, which quickly turned into a sob. This wasn't the first time he had been tormented in his sleep by the memory of Anya's death, as if his suffering during his conscious hours wasn't enough, and he knew it would not be the last.

He knew he should be getting some sleep. Rest would help heal his wounds and he and Hadvar had decided to leave the next day, Hadvar to report back to his superiors in Solitude and Berin to tell the Jarl of Whiterun of the dragon attack and to request aid and protection for Riverwood.

It just... _hurt so much._ So much that he almost wished that the dragon hadn't shown up when it did, just so he could be with the wife he loved and the daughter that he never got to know.

But no, he couldn't think like that. Anya wouldn't want him to.

_Heh. If Anya knew I was even __**thinking**__ like that, she would come down from Aetherius and kick my ass. _He thought with a watery chuckle.

He absently fingered the ring on his hand again, a habit he had developed whenever he thought of her, and an idea came to him, something that would keep Anya and Zeliza with him always. He would ask Alvor's help in the morning.

He felt a sudden warmth in his chest then, as if she were lying right next to him, and he fell into a deep sleep with a small smile on his face, knowing that they were watching over him.

* * *

Sigrid crept down the stairs when she heard the sobbing end, wanting to make sure the young man was alright.

_He's too young. _She thought sadly. _Too young to have such sad eyes._

She'd been awoken near midnight by the faint sound of broken sobbing coming from downstairs and had been concerned when she noticed that Berin's pallet was no longer by the fireplace. It had taken several minutes for the cries to fade away and she hoped that he had fallen back asleep.

Knowing how cold the basement got during the night, she quietly made her way to the large wardrobe in the corner and pulled out two of the extra blankets, hoping it would keep him warm enough.

Thanking the gods that some of the light from the fireplace made it possible to see down here, she tiptoed over to the now-shivering form curled up under the blanket. Kneeling down beside him, she gently laid the extra blankets over his body and watched as the shivers slowly stopped.

Looking at the boy's sleeping face, she sighed sadly at the sight of still-wet tear tracks on his cheeks.

_Poor dear. _She thought, brushing his hair away from his face and feeling a rush of maternal protectiveness. Sending a prayer to the Divines for him and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, she got up and returned to her bed, determined that he would be accepted into their family as much as Hadvar was.

She'd always wanted a large family.


End file.
